Chapter 429

Chapter 429: The Secret of Siberia

Beneath the secret wooden cabin lies a hidden secret base, spanning about a few thousand square meters. It is a permanent underground fortress that combines living quarters, training facilities, and workspaces.

As strategic reconnaissance aircraft frequently soar within the atmosphere and reconnaissance satellites multiply in space, humanity increasingly prefers to bury its secrets deep beneath thick layers of earth.

The complex surface environments can even evade long-range sensing by synthetic aperture radar.

“Yes, Colonel Cui Enxiu, I am willing to take full responsibility for this.”

Another middle-aged man spoke in a cold, emotionless voice, his ear still ringing from the thunderous reprimand that almost burst his eardrum.

After investing immense effort and time, like ants moving their home bit by bit, aiming to complete the task in one go, he never expected that while the ideal was beautiful, the plan was perfect, and the operation was brave, it still could not overcome the cruel reality.

They failed—completely failed.

An entire city’s budget, enough for millions to eat white rice for a year, had gone down the drain, and countless common people would cry tears of grief, realizing that all their sweat had been in vain.

Not only that, they hadn’t gained even the slightest benefit.

Is the luck of the only unbroken civilization in the world for nearly ten thousand years—China’s luck—or perhaps fate, truly so extraordinary?

No one could have imagined, no one could have foreseen, how many unforeseen events would lead to this seemingly perfect operation plan.

From the computer attack system to ultra-long-range remote communications, to the costly combat mechanical soldiers, and the countless practice drills, nearly every robot involved in the operation had a human assisting its operation.

Compared to the supreme aerospace technology, the rudimentary robot technology seemed inadequate—a phoenix soaring high in the sky versus a chicken scratching the ground for seeds and insects; they were simply incomparable.

If anything took up the biggest cost, it was the development of the intelligent system. Once a set was completed, it could be replicated indefinitely; this deal was undeniably profitable.

With timing, location, harmony, even funds, manpower, and materials all perfectly in place, it merely proved one thing.

Humans cannot always triumph over fate.

Yet,

"The will of heaven is hard to defy!"

The operation had ended four hours ago.

Twenty-five meters deep in the permafrost of the Ural Mountains, in a hall over a thousand square meters, the most advanced military computers emitted faint operational sounds. Heat conduction pipes automatically circulated temperature-controlled air, channeling the heat from the computers to the surface ventilation system.

In a nearby room, the steady hum of a small diesel generator provided stable electricity. All electronics remained operational, but this full-load operating state couldn’t last long. Besides the generator’s fuel consumption, the readings from the large lead-acid battery bank were gradually decreasing.

Everyone responsible for remote operations sat rigidly at their stations, their faces pale as if the scythe of death had passed gently, taking away their souls.

Colonel Cui Enxiu bit his lips until they bled, his gaze cold and piercing as he glared at the technical supervisor in charge of this operation.

“You scoundrel!” He could no longer find the words to express his feelings.

Before the operation began, he had already understood the costs of success and failure.

If this operation succeeded, it would propel him straight to the top— a lifetime of high-ranking positions and ample rewards, even benefiting future generations. The country’s aerospace technology could leap to new heights, breaking free from the atmosphere and opening up endless possibilities and resources in space.

But they had failed.

Not only had the immense costs to the nation turned into nothingness, but they would also face retaliatory strikes that made matters worse.

Major Jin Shunyi saw that Colonel Cui Enxiu had no further words and turned to return to his office, tightly closing the door, facing the hall.

Then came a muffled gunshot from within.

As the gunfire rang out, Jin Shunyi felt as if lightning had struck him. He stood frozen in place, his expression complex, motionless for a long time before slowly reaching for the sidearm at his waist, as if his fate had already been sealed.

If it’s not a success, then it’s a sacrifice.

In the hall, another colonel trembled as he stumbled out of his seat. His face, showing signs of aging at over forty, appeared suddenly frail as he staggered away.

With the second gunshot, and then the third, the sound reverberated continuously within the officers’ dormitory of the base, like thunder breaking the long-standing silence underground.

“Gunfire? What’s going on? Where is the gunfire coming from? Colonel Cui Enxiu, Colonel Jin Shunyi, and Colonel Li Chen, they are all missing! Li Dongzhe, what should we do?”

In a corner of the hall, someone finally snapped back to reality with the consecutive gunshots, sparking a commotion, as the stagnant air began to stir.

“Jin Lichen, uh, I don’t know what to do either.”

“Let’s check on those officers! He Haoyi, Park Namjeong, let’s go together.”

Several major-level technical officers rose from their seats and ran towards the passage leading to the officers’ dormitory. Not far out, they saw a group of soldiers armed to the teeth charging towards them, blocking their path.

“What’s happening? Where’s this gunfire coming from?”

The agile special forces soldiers deftly loaded their weapons, their gun barrels pointed unceremoniously at the technical officers. Throughout the operation, they had been on high alert, monitoring all corners of the forest with various equipment to protect this underground fortress.

“Colonel Cui Enxiu, Colonel Jin Shunyi, and Colonel Li Chen, it seems they have committed suicide.”

A technical officer hurriedly explained, not daring to slow down.

These cold and ruthless individuals were highly skilled: their shooting was precise, and their hand-to-hand combat was exceptional, far surpassing ordinary soldiers in tactical skills.

While having such protection increased their safety, from another angle, these soldiers could just as easily execute them without hesitation.

“Suicide?”

Even the usually unflappable captain of the guard couldn’t help but change his expression. Two colonels and a general made up nearly half of the senior leadership at this secret base.

This was serious.

This base was no ordinary military facility; it held extremely high levels of secrecy. If exposed, it would lead to unimaginably terrifying consequences. For such key figures to commit suicide was as if the sky were to fall.

“15, 58, 112! Go knock on the doors of Colonel Cui Enxiu, Colonel Jin Shunyi, and Colonel Li Chen!”

The captain wasted no time and immediately took action.

However, no matter how the three special forces soldiers knocked, there was no response from inside. Meanwhile, Jin Lichen and the others, who were kept isolated, anxiously observed the soldiers’ actions.

“Force the door open!”

The captain issued the command again.

“Yes!” The three special forces soldiers immediately set out to open the door. Two doors opened, but one was locked from within. The soldier who couldn’t open the door pulled a steel pin from his pocket and inserted it into the lock, forcefully picking it.

While using a computer system to open and close doors might be safer and more convenient, it could also easily be exploited by enemies, turning the rooms into actual cells. Thus, in many underground bases, electronic locks were rarely seen, with traditional mechanical locks still widely used for their practicality and security, even if they were not highly complex.

As the two opened doors swung wide, a thick smell of blood surged out, and another door about to be opened carried an unmistakable sense of dread.

“Immediately report the situation up the chain and request instructions.”

The captain’s expression darkened as soon as he heard the gunfire, his mouth twitching—this would surely trigger a major upheaval.

The pungent smell of blood began to dissipate, and the atmosphere in the underground base turned oppressive and bleak again.

The once bright lights seemed to dim, and the stench only intensified.

This high-tech tactical underground base felt as if it had transformed into the depths of hell.

…

The J-10B soared into the sky, filled with fury like thunder, as if it shook off the pent-up frustration in its chest. Barely fifty meters off the ground after takeoff, the fighter began to roll continuously.

Lin Mo pushed the engine hard, unleashing the fierce power of the AL-31FN vector engine. The intense sensation of being pushed back felt more like the pressure rushing towards him, pinning Lin Mo firmly into his seat.

“Help!”

Came the terrified screams from “Tabby Cat” Meng Yinan in the cockpit.

How dare the leader execute such dazzling maneuvers at this altitude? Was it extraordinary skill, or did he care little for human life?

He finally understood why the leader had repeatedly reminded him to confirm if he truly wanted to fly aboard this two-seater J-10B fighter. If his initial excitement upon getting the leader’s agreement signified entering paradise, then now, it was akin to being unceremoniously kicked into hell by the very person he revered.

Since leaving Team 7759, few dared to fly with Lin Mo in his aircraft.

God, this was walking hand-in-hand with death.

It was almost a shared belief among anyone who had ever flown with Lin Mo—whether they were close comrades or trainees he had once instructed—that their mind and physical fitness simply could not bear the maneuverability of flying in sync with Lin Mo.

But now, after a long absence from the skies, Lin Mo felt no guilt as he released his pent-up energy.